


From Our Cradle

by BelladonnaLee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Horror, M/M, Necrophilia, Twincest, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaLee/pseuds/BelladonnaLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of the wake, George was alone in the stone chamber, looking down upon his twin's smiling face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Our Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for My Bloody Valentine: A Darkfic Comment Fest, organized by [hp_darkarts](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/).

On the night of the wake, George was alone in the stone chamber, looking down upon his twin's smiling face, a smile forever frozen in death. At his request, his family had left him alone to grieve, though what he had in mind was more than mourning the passing of his twin.

After ridding himself of his clothes, he shivered in the cold air. Was that how Fred felt when he died, this chill that was threatening to eat into his very marrows? Letting out a breath, George picked up his wand, raised it at his twin, and stripped Fred of his burial clothes: the suit he had worn on Bill's wedding day. He was so full of life and laughter on that day, and so beautiful that George could almost weep. The irony tasted like ashes in George's mouth, but he had no tears to shed. 

He put down the wand and climbed into the white coffin. The space was narrow, but their mother's womb had been narrower still. As his body grew feverish with desire, he straddled his twin, his hand caressing stone cold cheek, and his crotch rubbing against stone cold flesh. How long had he been dreaming of looking upon Fred from this vantage point? Far too long.

From the moment he realised what he felt for Fred went beyond the boundary of familial love, everything in the world had become a little crooked, a little off-centre.

Fred did not know how many times George had violated him in his dreams. He did not know how many times George had stroked himself while weaving together erotic fantasies of him in his head. No, Fred must not know. Even if he had guessed the true meaning behind George's furtive glances, he would simply put on a jester's mask and pretend all was well in the world. Such was his brand of kindness and cruelty.

Sweating and panting hard, George ran his hands along his twin's torso, exploring the body that was so similar yet dissimilar to his. Candlelight flickered; shadows writhed upon the wall as though indulging in a midnight revelry. The table beneath the coffin was creaking, but he heard none of it. Taking Fred's hand, he kissed those fingers he had clung to since birth. In his delirium, he felt warm fingers quiver against his lips.

There was no longer any need for him to hold back, to fear rejection or abomination. Nothing existed in this cold, locked chamber other than him and his twin. 

He melted into his twin, their bodies fusing into one as they should have always been. It was not a crime, not a transgression, not a perversion. They had merely returned to the beginning of their lives: a single cell forced to split into two.

With a final cry he collapsed on top of his twin and bled his life away. There was no sound in the room other than his heavy breathing, but even that would soon fade into silence. It was time, he thought absently as he twisted around to tug at the lid of the coffin. The lid gave way and slowly slid shut, shielding him and his twin from the world of light they were born into. Nevertheless, it was not an ending; it was a new beginning.

In the darkness that was their cradle, George wrapped his arms around his twin and closed his eyes. Dimly he was aware of his heart beating for Fred, his lungs breathing for Fred, his blood coursing through his veins for Fred. As his mind wandered off into the dreamscape of a certain summer evening, however, he was no longer certain which one of them had died.

* * * * * * *

_Finis._


End file.
